Fa Awry
by Codename Jellybean
Summary: One-shots for competitions and such :)
1. BillXFleur

You can't place a word on it, but there's something about her that makes you happy.

The others call her Phlegm, but they don't see what you see- she tries so hard to get your family to like her, how she relentlessly practiced her English so it's better than yours now.

Privately, you call her _your little flower, _although she's nearly a foot taller than you.

She was born as perfection. Brave. Beautiful.

You were born as poor. Disgusting. Beastly.

But somehow, inexplicably, you fit.

And isn't that all that matters in the end?

**.oOo.**

**Written for the No Names/Drabble Competition, where the rules are to write a drabble without mentioning names. /The pairing was BillXFleur, by the way/**

**Also, the Fairy Tales Challenge /Beauty and the Beast, a stretch, I know/**

**Love you all! **

**xxCJxx**


	2. TheoXBlaise

**This one is for the Het vs Slash competition by DobbyRocksSocks (BlaiseTheo), the Dance Competition by ASiriusCrushOnMoony (Tap Dancing~ impatience), both of which are on HPFC! Thanks to meh reviewers, I love you all very very much. (Unicorn and Luke yays) **

Theodore Nott had been born a week late.

He'd overslept on the first day of Charm School.

He had gotten his first beard nearly a year after everyone else, he had been late to his first date by five hours, but he sure as hell was not going to be late in proposing, and if he was...he didn't want to think about it.

'You've been dating for what? Five years now? Get a move on, Romeo!' Pansy had snapped, stirring her breakfast martini with expertise and skill.

'Er...isn't it a bit too early for alcohol?' Theo asked, eyeing the nearly overflowing glass.

Pansy sighed, one hand on her hip. 'It's never too early for martinis, and it's never early to propose.' Theo rolled his eyes. Pansy had been married three times already, and she was only twenty-eight.

'Now, shoo. I have martinis to drink,' she said, turning her back to him, which was quite a feat, seeing that her kitchen was barely the size of a shoebox. 'Also, you're like, forty-five minutes late for your date,' she added when he made no move to go.

'Shit! Pansy!'

.oOo.

Apparating was easy enough if you were in a relatively calm state, but if you were as panicked as Theo was and decided to try, then, well, God help you.

And so Theo found himself lying down on a bed with two lumps that were starting to move groggily.

'Hermione, I thought we agreed...no more threesomes, not after _the incident,' _someone who sounded suspiciously like Ron Granger-Weasely muttered.

'Damnit! Sorry! Go back to whatever you guys were doing, I'll be off!' Theo sputtered, leaping off of the bed as if it was on fire as Ron and Hermione Granger-Weasely stuck their heads out of the covers, looking decidedly disheveled.

'Bloody-'

'Nott-'

'Hurryupandproposeyouidiot!' Hermione quickly called after him as he dissapparated with a crack.

.oOo.

Damn. So if even Hermione could tell that he had to get a move on, then he definitely needed to get a move on. 'I wi-' He replied as he was swept away again, this time (purposely) into a jeweler's.

The line was enormous, almost spilling outside the shop, if the shop hadn't been spelled to expand and contract depending on the number of customers.

The jeweler herself was eleventy-one, and moved at a pace slower than Theo, if that was possible. 'N-e-e-ext,' she croaked, and the line moved an inch forward.

_Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, goddammit! _

The jeweler dropped her glasses, reaching sloooowly for her wand to Accio them back.

_Move move move move move-_

The man at the beginning of the line had forgotten what he had ordered.

_Fuck you, God, you sadistic bastard! _

He waited for fifteen more minutes, and when the line hadn't moved, he gave up. _Fuck the ring._

_What good's a ring for, anyway? _

.oOo.

Two hours late, Theo found himself at The Hog's Head.

'One bottle of your finest,' he commanded, although it came out kind of garbled, because _well, he was in a hurry, wasn't he. _

The bartender gave him a look. 'Finest? Hog's Head?' Theo sighed. Again.

'Just...do you have any firewhisky?'

'...I suppose. How much do you have on you?'

Frantically, Theo grasped inside his pockets, thinking dismally of Blaise waiting at Godric's Hollow, fingers itching to slap his boyfriend's face. 'Nothing. But I'm getting married I think I hope maybe but only-'

'Go away, kid. We don't serve your kind here.'

.oOo.

Godric's Hollow. Blaise wasn't there. Was he supposed to feel saddened, or happy?

'Blaise?' He was aware of how he looked, scruffy and spattered with the bartender's spit, and he had lost a shoe somewhere along the way.

And with a small fizzle, Blaise apparated (should we say stumbled?) into the clearing, falling flat on his face in front of Theo's shoes, looking just as terrible as Theo did.

'Theo?'

'Blaise?'

'Er...'

'You're late.'

'I wanted to propose to you, but I had no ring, and I had no firewhisky, and I didn't know what to do, and-' Blaise tumbled through his words staccato as Theo opened and closed his mouth dumbfoundedly.

'I'm sorry.' Blaise's shoulders slumped.

Blaise was too good to be Slytherin. But Theo wasn't. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I still would say yes, even if your planning was atrocious.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'...You were going to propose today, too, weren't you.'

'No.'

'Idiot.'

'Maybe.' Theo mumbled.

'I figured. You were in front of me in line at the jeweler's.'

Theo laughed. 'Outsmarted by the best. Marry me?'

'Yeah, sure, as long as you tell me I'm the best every day.' Blaise smiled.

.oOo.

And so, Theo was late in proposing to Blaise, but Blaise was later, so it turned out (more or less) okay.


	3. HarryXGinny, GinnyXCho

**Dance Competition whoo.**

**Pairings: HarryXGinny, GinnyXHarry **

**Warnings: infidelity, Harry is kind of sexist, italics overuse**

**.oOo. **

He's lounging on the sofa, his shock of black hair falling into his glasses as he reads an old version of the _Quibbler _when she steps inside, considerably quieter than what she had been when she left.

'I'm home,' Ginny calls just for the sake of it-he probably heard the door open, anyway. Her voice comes out thin and reedy.

'Where were you?' Harry asks, and he puts away the newspaper as he gets up to give her a quick peck on the cheek. _Her _lips are much softer, Ginny thinks, standing on her toes to hug him as comfortably as she can. And _she _is the same height as me, so all of _this _doesn't have to happen.

_This _is the acrobatics that Harry and Ginny have to perform whenever they kiss, because Harry is nearly a foot taller than her.

'So where were you? You said you'd be at Ron's and Hermione's, but I went over there for drinks on break, and you weren't there.' He whispers, drawing away from her, and Ginny feels her heart tearing as she looks into his sincere green eyes.

The worst part of it all is that his tone isn't accusing, but worried.

'Just...around. Why did you have to follow me, anyway? Can't I have my space?' Ginny snaps. 'Love,' she adds as an afterthought.

He shakes his head, and smiles. 'I guess you're tired, from a day of _whatever it is you were doing. _Why don't we have dinner and then sleep on it?'

Of course, he's implying that Ginny needs to cook the dinner, never mind that he was the one at home for god-knows-how-long doing absolutely nothing. _She _would never be this inconsiderate.

'Why don't we...skip dinner, actually,' Harry suggests before moving to kiss her on the mouth, his hand becoming buried in her hair.

And the feeling is all too familiar for Ginny, the feeling of _her _hands still fresh on her body, but her hands were warm and soft, and his are awkward and out of place.

'How about tomorrow, I'm kind of tired, Love,' she replies, pushing him away gently.

'Oh, that's right, tired doing _something that you're hiding from me,' _says Harry bitterly.

But she just turns away.

They live in a house of cards, where one small breeze could leave them to topple. But how can she love him when Cho is around? How can she tell him that she only married him because he was a friend, and she didn't cringe when she thought about marrying him?

How can she tell him any of this without breaking both of their hearts?


	4. Chapter 4

I think that she's The One.

_I think that I'm going to avoid him for as long as possible. _

I'd rather be mediocre and be with her, than flawless (as is my current self), and devoid of her presence.

_I'd...rather fail an exam than endure him._

If I was less amazing, she would be my better half.

_I'm too good for him. _

You might as well try to herd dragons than get her to leave me.

_Remind me why I married him again? _

Since sixth year, we were in love.

_You mean 'in hatred'. _

Love you.

_Fine, I do, too._

**The Celtic/Icelandic Challenge~You might as well try to herd dragons.**

**The No Names/Drabble Competition~HermioneXCormac, 100 words on the dot. **

**Pairing: HermioneXCormac **


	5. NevilleXHermione (friendship)

**The Dance Competition- something about friends**

**The Chemistry Challenge- O (Oxygen) Au (Gold)**

**The Fairy Tail Challenge- Frozen**

_**Note: I'm going through some stuff right now, and I'm sorry, but updates will come a bit slower. Apologies, but it'll blow over soon or something.**_

**This wasn't my favorite one, but oh well?**

**Friendship-pairing: NevilleXHermione (and NevilleXHermioneXHarryXRon)**

.oOo.

"I gave you my _soul _and you just tore it to shreds and spit it back out in bloodied, severed pieces!" Neville roared, tugging at his hair. "You were my everything, but you betrayed me! I can't ever forgive this. Get out of my-"

"You're yelling at a plant, Neville." Hermione said, uncrossing then recrossing her legs from her vantage point- a slightly mildewed table that was the home of hundreds of Flutterby saplings that framed her face with small, butterfly-shaped buds.

"But it's the worst plant I ever-"

"A plant is a plant is a plant." Hermione cut him off, and then smiled. "Ah, Shakespeare parallels even the most non-Muggle conversation," she sighed happily.

"But it won't _grow! _Not a single millimeter! No new leaves! Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" Disgustedly, he threw another rat at the begging Venomous Tentacula.

"You spoil that thing," Hermione said fondly as she reached over to pet the Tentacula's red head. As it let out a belch, she continued. "But what exactly are you trying to grow in the first place? It looks like a weed."

Neville scoffed. "Who said weeds were bad? _Communists _said weeds were bad, that's what! Giving weeds a bad connotation is freaking racist, and it's just plain wrong to-it's a dandelion." He admitted as Hermione's smirk got wider and wider. _  
_

"That's a bit lowbrow for you, isn't it? And the fact that you're fa~ailing..."

"How did you get married if you act like this around everyone?" Neville muttered.

"Ron's right, I liked you better when you were quiet and boring," she retorted.

"Do you think that if I give it more water, it'll work?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a weed-I mean _special plant," _she said, seeing Neville's glare. "Just use fertilizer. Or maybe just give up on it and come out to dinner with us."_  
_

"But it won't grow," he whined.

"Stop being such a hermit. You are coming with Harry, Ron and me for dinner, you are going to have a great time, and you will _not_ collect plant specimens or even _think _about collecting plant specimens, because you will be having a great time!"

Neville frowned. "But what if it's a really cool plant? Like really rare, or with orange leaves?"

"Then we'll let you pick it up. And then wrench it from your hands and crush it beneath our feet," Hermione smiled.

"I liked the old Hermione better. Remember the one? Swottish, no life, annoying voice...but you were still _decent _back then," Neville grumbled, but he was smiling, too.

"Thank you _so much_," Hermione drawled. "Dinner's at seven. We're meeting at Harry's house first. You have until then to get your special plant to grow."

Neville shook his head as Hermione apparated out of the greenhouse.

Dinner, indeed.

He could skip dinner this once. There were dandelions to bloom.

Friends could wait.


	6. Cho

**Dance Competition- the Pogo**

**Crayola Colours Challenge- Minerva McGonnagal **

**Wow, NaNo is almost over, and I'm a whole 9,541 words away from 50 K. So of course I'm going to write fanfiction instead, ahaha.**

**Pairing: None this time :) **

**Warning(s): I don't count this as a warning, but some other people do, so here goes-Cho has two moms. I know, I know, the outrage. **

**.xXx. **

The letter arrived at 1:17 in the morning, by a large, tawny owl with eyes that seemed to see exactly what she thought as she opened the much awaited letter with quivering hands.

_The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is pleased to invite you, Miss Cho Chang, of -_

"Mum!" She called, as loudly as she could (which wasn't very loud). "Ma! It came! The letter came!"

Nobody came rushing upstairs to congratulate the ecstatic eleven year old, and the house remained still, the last note of Cho's voice ringing through the rooms. She wouldn't dare to try the Floo, or even go downstairs to their room, for the last time she had entered her parents' room without knocking, the result had left her unable to look at her mothers in the face for quite a while.

So who could she tell? The books, stacked alphabetically, crammed on her bookshelf, the only friends she had since she was seven? The toad christened Miss Minnie, with a big fat bow on her head, who stared with unsentient, blank eyes at the wall behind her?

Suddenly, the excitement Cho had felt dissipated, just by a fraction.

And then, as the house remained chillingly tranquil, she saw another house's lights flicker on as an owl flew into the window. Dancing silhouettes, of a boy, his mother, his father.

And Cho's heart seemed to swell again, because even if there was nobody to tell at her own home, somewhere out there, there were people who cared about Hogwarts, about magic, and soon, Cho would be immersed in them.

She couldn't wait-

-but she had to, for three whole weeks.

(Three _whole _weeks! For an eleven-year-old, that's pretty much forever!)

.xXx.

Morning came, and her mothers had both left for work, Mum to the Ministry, and Ma to arrange shop windows at an icecream store.

So, over a still cup of orange juice, Cho talked about her Hogwarts admission letter to two silent mothers made of air and imagination. "I got in," she said. "To Hogwarts, like you knew I would. It came in the morning. No, not at one, I don't sleep that late, Ma, when I woke up. Kind of."

But even that soon proved to be tiring.

She wanted to _go! _To leave behind this quiet persona she had dissolved into these past four years, as children slowly had figured out that Cho had two mothers. She wanted to leave to a school where nobody knew about how Ma had been dismissed from her teaching job because she was married to another woman, to leave the masses of spiteful children (and their equally, if not more so hateful parents) with their judging eyes and catcalls.

She could start anew.

But she had to wait for _three whole weeks! That was positively inhumane. _

Cho always spent her days alone reading, or thinking, or doing homework, or contemplating the foggy sense of alone-ness that permeated throughout the house, clouding up the windows, as she heard another game of soccer going on without her.

Her days were solitary, isolated from her mothers, shrouded in silence amongst children her age.

But today was different.

Today Cho was actually excited, actually ready to go outside and _do _something. She strained at the doorstep, magically warded to keep others out (and her trapped in) her hair whipped across her face, thin strands of shadow streaking her face, and her eyes looked to the sky, open and vast, where the owl had come from.

"I'm going to Hogwarts,' she told the wind in her clear voice. "I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Hogwarts, where she could start a new life, with people like her, who didn't judge her, where there were more books for her to know, more people to befriend.

Congratulations, the wind seemed to croon as it slipped down the street to the soccer game.


	7. Bellatrix X Voldemort

Whenever he beckons, she will come.

He is serpentine, calculating, merciless.

She is clashing, raging, madness.

He thirsts for his revenge.

She thirsts for his acknowledgement.

He croons her name.

She sighs. Smiling.

His scaly hand tangles through her hair.

She gasps. Pleasurably.

He strikes her, white hand on white skin, quickly turning red.

She apologizes.

He sneers. Turns away.

Her oily tears fall to the ground.

It is her fault.

He is blameless.

She will do better.

Curses raining, people dying.

She strikes at random.

"Not my daughter, you BITCH!'

Bellatrix Lestrange dies with his name in her tongue.

**Creepy Pairing Of The Day Drabble Competition by Lamia. **

**Pairing: Bellamort**

**Warnings: It's...creepy? A dysfunctional relationship? **


	8. ChoXGinny, Other

**Dance Competition, woo. **

**Pairing: GinnyXCho (am I the only one who can list Cho on my top ten favorite characters I hope not) **

**Warnings: Overuse of that serious-Sirius pun that nobody finds funny. Argh, one part of this that Ginny goes through pretty much happened to me when I came out to one of my friends, so it's sad for me to write it, but probably not for you guys .**

**.oOo.**

The door is always open, a girl is always perched near the statue.

The carpet of stars is always beckoning to wayward wanderers passing the halls past curfew, but none of them have ever stepped inside, succumbed by the temptation.

* * *

A gulp of courageous air, and four words.

'I'm kind of gay.'

Fay Dunbar looks at her, blue eyes cutting through layers of comforting darkness that gave Ginny Weasely the strength to say it for once. 'You're kidding.'

'Nope, I'd be kidding if I said I was serious. Or if I said I was Sirius, but not-'Ginny's voice dies a premature death. Fay hugs herself.

'Look, I'm not saying it's bad to be...not-straight, but...'

'I just don't feel comfortable with you in this room now, you know?' Quinn Noire pipes up.

'Oh my gosh, does this mean that you've been checking us out since day one?'

'Guys, it's not like that, okay? I like someone else-' Ginny begins, but nobody listens. They crowd her words out with silence, staring at her until she blushes and stares at the wall.

'Ginny, I don't mean this in a mean way, but can you sort of leave this room for a little bit? Just until we decide what we're going to do?' Fay whispers from inside the embrace of her arms.

What's a recently outed girl to do? Ginny nods, steps out of bed, barefoot. No sound is made as she exits the room, the calm before the storm of a flurry of whispers that will no doubt start when she leaves.

* * *

When midnight casts its black veil and the moon begins to fade, Ginny Weasely slips up to where the Ravenclaw Dormitory is, with her signature red hair disguised by the thousands of shadows falling on the floor.

The carpet of stars beckons her to carefully tiptoe inside. The silence is her enemy, but the darkness is her friend.

'You're Ginny Weasely,' someone says in a clear voice like water running over rocks, and Ginny turns to her left. Near the white porcelain statue of a benevolent sorceress, a shadow unfolds, and becomes Cho Chang, who wears silence and midnight like a veil, who wears her heart deep inside layers of tightly wrapped clothes.

Ginny rolls her eyes. 'I do hope I'm not Sirius Black. Are you going to turn me in?" She fights to keep the tremor out of her voice. She fails. Ginny has seen Cho a total of three times. Once during the first meeting of DA, once during the fourth meeting, and the third time didn't really count, as she was trying to avoid looking at Cho and Harry snogging each other senseless under the mistletoe. Each time, Ginny's heart melts just a little bit more.

Cho hugs herself, standing up. She's beautiful, Ginny thinks. 'I have a question.'

'And I have a response.'

Cho is talking in hushed tones, her thin voice weaving through the silent room. 'What if I kind of liked a girl, as in not a guy, then would you be mad? By _you _I mean _everyone, _and by _mad _I mean _furious._ If I hypothetically liked a girl, that is. Hypothetically. As more than a friend.'

Ginny flushes. 'I wouldn't care. This isn't the Middle Ages or something, so-' One diamond-drop tear falls on the carpet of stars and disappears, unseen.

'So what if I liked this girl, but not hypothetically and we're friends, so I don't want to risk it, then what should I do?'

Heart hammering, Ginny replies with a 'Go for it, just tell her. She might even...like you back?'

Cho smiles. 'Thanks, Ginny. I'll tell Marietta tomorrow. Really, thanks. But don't tell anyone-please?'

She nods, mutely.

Ginny Weasely leaves the Ravenclaw Common Room feeling even more broken than she did when she entered.


	9. RonXHermione, RonXLavender

**Dance Competition- Character with strong beliefs**

There was only so much of this nonsense that Hermione could take before she burst.

Look at _them, _resembling a flailing, four-limbed spider, sucking face on the most comfortable chair in the Common Room! She scowled, crossing her arms.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

All she could do was gesture wordlessly at _them. _Harry smiled sympathetically. "You've still got a thing for Ron, haven't you."

"I do _not _have _things _for people, regardless of how attractive they may be!" She sputtered.

"So you called Ron good-looking?"

"No."

"Aesthetically gifted?"

"Heavens, no."

"Really hot?"

"If you continue this, I won't let you copy my History of Magic notes for the rest of the year," Hermione replied, shuddering at the thought of calling Ron "really hot".

He wasn't "hot", he was just...not ugly. His jawbone was sort of nice. His neck wasn't all that bad. But Hermione refused to fall in love with her best friend, no matter how not-ugly he decided to be. It ranked second on her Ten Commandments for Excelling In Sixth Year that she had written over the summer, and how could she go against those? ...Even if his hair was to die for.

So she just scowled, turned back to her paper, and attempted to write her Potions essay, before Harry murmured "You totally have a thing for him."

"No things, never. I have lost all my things."

"Nope, you have a thing for him, it's obvious," Harry continued.

"Things are against my religion," Hermione said.

"Hermione, you're atheist."

"_Harry James Potter, I do not have a thing for Ron! Cease and desist talking about my calling Ron attractive immediately!" _She ended up shrieking, standing up and toppling a stack of books as she did so.

The entire Common Room was silent.

Nervously, she sneaked a look at Ron, who was looking (adorably) confused under Lavender.

But then Ron shrugged, and went back to work making out with Lavender, and the rest of the Common Room restarted what they were doing warily.

"You still like him," Harry whispered.

Oh, for Godric's sake.


End file.
